Use your imagination to play through the situations where you might drug or drink. It was an AA tool that had helped Lou get through the hard times accompanying the early days of his recovery. Now, breathing slowly and deeply, he sank into his desk chair and let his mind wander down the alley where, nearly eleven years ago, he frequently went to meet his supplier. The man was absolute slime, but his product, which Lou bought in pill form or as nose candy, was the best. There was no fatigue, no disappointment, no stress that the drugs—heroin or amphetamine—would not make him feel better … at least temporarily. His mouth went dry. He was inhaling through his nose now, actually tasting the crystals.

I’m not doing it anymore, he heard himself say. I’m finished.

He stopped inhaling and then opened his eyes. The image faded quickly. Despite the resentment boiling inside him, the years of dedication he’d given to this job, the cases he’d be deserting, the people who might not understand, and might think the worst, Lou decided to go out with class, refusing to sink to Filstrup’s level. The people who really mattered, Emily, Renee, and Cap—they would understand. But only if he stayed clean.

“Dr. Welcome, are you okay?”

Babs Peterbee stood by the opening to his cube, concern clouding her face. Tears were welling in her eyes.

Lou’s thoughts snapped back to the moment.

“I’m not happy, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “But I’m going to be okay if that’s what you mean. I’m going to be fine.”

“And your friend?”

“We’ll have to wait and see, but the people in Atlanta sound like they are on top of things—at least for the moment.”

“Dr. Welcome, I’m so sorry. I knew Dr. Filstrup was upset about not having his speech read, but I had no idea he would do something like this.”

Lou felt the last of his fear and anxiety blow away like mist. No projections. One of Cap’s favorite lessons crossed his mind.

In any situation, there are only two possibilities: What you want to have happen … and something else.

It was time to adjust to the something else. And then, there would be two new possibilities.

“Not to worry,” he said. “I’m going out like John Wayne, riding off into the sunset. I’m not going to throw a fit, no tears will be shed, no long good-byes said. Off into the sunset.”

Peterbee sniffed and used a tissue.

“It’s just so unfair,” she said. “I’m going to fight to get you your job back.”

Lou brushed aside the idea with a wave of his hand.

“You’ll do no such thing, my friend. I’ll be fine. Remember, I do have another job.”

“But you’re so good at this—”